Nothing Wrong with Her Memory--It's Her Ears.

I was sitting on my bed reading when Lillian, age 4, came into the room and sat down beside me.

"Mom, will you play a game with me?"

"Um, yea," I said with my eyes glued to the book and my mouth doing the talking without much thought, "what do you want to play?"

"A game like Chutes and Ladders or Memory."

I hate Chutes and Ladders. It's like being caught in an eternal space-time continuum disaster that wraps you in its vortex, sucking you farther and farther downward, never to escape. NEVER! It's the game that will not end. Just as you think you're about to break free you hit that last chute and *wham!* you're back to square one.

Besides, Lillian can never keep our pieces straight (not that she lets me choose which one I'm going to be anyway). She moves whichever marker catches her eye first and then always goes the wrong direction. Forget that there are arrows to guide you, forget that the spaces are numbered sequentially, it doesn't matter which way she's supposed to go, she always heads the wrong way. Guaranteed--kind of like how she's guaranteed to get her shoes on the wrong feet. I mean odds are that she'd at least get it right 50% of the time but no, they're always backward so she must be trying to get them that way. With odds like that there must be some effort involved.

So no Chutes and Ladders. Period. Get one of your minions (David or Spencer) to play with you but I'm retired from the Chutes and Ladders circuit. Memory, on the other hand, actually takes some skill and though my four year-old consistently creams me at least it's competitive and takes some thought.

"Sure," I said, turning a page, "I'll play Memory with you. Go get the game."

She paused, considering, then said slyly, "How about Chutes and Ladders?"

Still without looking up I said, "No, but I'll play Memory."

She came closer to me and leaned her head against me. "How 'bout Chutes and Ladders?"

"I don't want to play Chutes and Ladders, if you want me to play go get Memory."

She at this point began to turn on the maximum charm and flattery, climbing up besides me, throwing her arms around my neck and planting a big kiss on my cheek. However, she forgot she was dealing with Mom and not Dad who is easily suckered by such simple feminine ploys. "Pleeeeease? I want to play Chutes and Ladders."

"Nope. Memory. Go get Memory and I'll play."

"Okay." She slid of the bed and pattered downstairs and came back a couple minutes later and set the box on the bed behind me.

Without looking at the game I turned another page and asked over my shoulder, "Did you get it?"

"Yup," She said brightly, "I got the game! Chutes and Ladders!"

My jaw tightening a bit I said through clenched teeth, "I'm not playing Chutes and Ladders. If it's a game you want then it's going to be Memory. Nothing else, got it?"

There was silence as I reread the paragraph and she settled into some thought. It must have been about a minute before I heard her casually say with that "I just happened to be in the neighborhood/nothing to see here" inflection to her tiny voice:

"Mom?"

"Hmmm?"

"We need to share. You play Chutes and Ladders with me then I'll play Memory with you after."

Maybe after beating me all those times she thinks there's something wrong with my memory. I'm old but I'm not that old. Nice try sweetheart but no Chutes and Ladders.

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